‘Sleep, Sleep, I couldn’t go to Sleep’ (to quote Eliza)

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay

I didn’t sleep well last night.  Apart from external disturbances, once I was FULLY awake at 5 am – the fourth time I’d woken up – my mind did its usual trick of rehearsing anything I was worried about. I  reflected about my choir (I’m a church organist); had a wee think about an optician’s appointment; wondered  – again  – whether someone about to revise a book draft had any right to think about sewing a jacket – and mused contentedly about the first of two talks I’m giving this month.

Then, there it was. The second talk – the whole hour of it – there in my mind, Word headings structured down the side and all.  It’s a perfectly good paper, and I was happy enough with it earlier in the week. I was still pleased enough yesterday evening.

Or was I?

Yes, I was – consciously, at any rate.  Plainly, there was a subconscious part of my mind that was less so.

All it amounts to, is moving a chunk of text, and I can see how to make the link smooth at the beginning of it.  I’m just concerned about the other end of it. But lying in the dark, I was warm and comfy – and tired, albeit awake – and nothing was going to drag me down to my laptop at five in the morning.

My mind decided to have a go at something else: the PowerPoint. It’s a lovely set of slides, no problem there.

‘You’re going to have to rearrange the slides’, said my mind, shoogling them about in its imagination. ‘You’re bound to get in a muddle with the order.’

I don’t really think that’s a big deal, though. Just a practical detail, not a conceptual one. 

Huffily, my brain metaphorically shrugged its shoulders. ‘Suit yourself. Wanna go back to sleep, then?’

At 6.54 am? On a Sunday morning, when I have to rehearse the choir at 10? Nope, no more sleep. I put the light on. ‘Why is the light on so early?’, asked the other sleepy organist beside me.

So early? He doesn’t know the half of it. And I can’t do anything about my paper until this afternoon.

But it could have been worse – at least I wasn’t Eliza, after a giddy night out!:-

Bed, bed I couldn’t go to bed,
My head’s too light to try to set it down;
Sleep, sleep I couldn’t sleep tonight,
Not for all the jewels in the crown.
[I could have danced all night …]

Sung by Eliza in My Fair Lady, by Lerner and Loewe

Image by DanFa from Pixabay

Migraine in the Rain

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay

I brought it on myself. A solid day’s writing should have been a delicious treat, but my eyes disagreed.

I’d written maybe 1k words (max) yesterday. Today, I was aiming for another 3k. And then – round about coffee time – the right side of my head suggested it might be a bit uncomfortable.

Nonsense, I told it. We’ll get a bit more of this written.

Very well, said my eyes. On your head be it. And it was! When will I learn?

Eventually, I capitulated – I went for a latte, two strong painkillers and a flapjack. I didn’t really want the flapjack, but it was intended to lessen the chance of the coffee and painkillers upsetting my gut!

Back to the laptop, I pushed on, but I did go for a quick walk by the sea at lunchtime. The waves were choppy, and it was raining steadily. But remarkably, the medication, the sea air, and a healthy walk in the rain did the trick.

A rainy St Andrews and a turbulent sea

This afternoon, I was more sensible. I took another break. Did I manage the target 3k? I’m afraid not! However, I got fairly close, and my head was clear to enjoy an evening seminar.

The trouble with taking a break
(It’s all for my weary eyes’ sake)
Is that less writing’s done,
Though the cuppa was fun,
And at least I’m alert and awake…

Tomorrow’s another day. I’ll get there yet!

The Book Report Arrives!

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay

UPDATE!

My book report arrived today. Yes, there are some revisions to be made,  but I don’t mind. That was to be expected.
Being ‘beautifully written’ is such a very lovely compliment. 😍

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

The Undistracted Fellow

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay

Logically, it should make no difference where we sit to work on our research. A laptop, a table and chair – that’s it, isn’t it?

However, my concentration is undeniably better in St Andrews, and I’m convinced it’s because of the circumstances.  For a start, it’s a seven hour round trip by bus. If I spend that much time just getting there, I’m certainly going to make the most of every hour whilst I’m there.

Secondly, I sit in quiet, comfortable surroundings with no distractions, whether it’s the office-with-a-view, or Martyrs’ Kirk reading room. That’s a privilege.

Time is neither carved up into obligatory breaks at specific times, nor do I need to stop one thing to do something else unrelated but unavoidable. Another luxury!

But most of all, there’s the feeling that being a guest fellow is an honour, so I want to squeeze as much as I can into the time available.

This week, I’ve written half of one of the two talks I’ve agreed to do, and spent a couple of hours at Martyrs’ Kirk. Sadly, one of the books I wanted to see, turned out not to be the sort of book I’d expected. Knowing the author’s prime focus, I thought that it would be a Victorian school book, but this one wasn’t. (At least I hadn’t bought it on eBay!) Maybe it means I’ll think of him as a more rounded individual, though, so perhaps it was worth having a look for that alone.

Hullah in staff notation mode!

But that’s another good thing about visiting St Andrews. It’s five minutes from my desk to a library. To look at the same thing in Glasgow would take up a whole chunk of a day, by the time I’d got from home to town. (And when I’m at my own library, I’m just a worker bee – neither a researcher, nor do we have the same resources.)

Mind you, having ruled out Hullah’s national songbook, there’s nothing for it – the next book on my list IS in Glasgow. You win some, lose some, I guess!

Featured image by Chen from Pixabay

Knowing When to Stop

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay
The mystery teacher – photo from British Newspaper Archive

There are times when our insatiable curiosity leads us ‘up the garden path’, aren’t there? For me, it’s when I decide to pursue the life history of characters that really aren’t central to what I’m researching.

Take this weekend: I’m currently researching the pedagogical output of a Victorian Edinburgh music teacher, and I discovered his daughter collaborated on some of his publications. (This is confirmed by a letter that her sister wrote to a music journal later.) The collaborations appear to have been before she married.

I found a newspaper article about a story she had written for a women’s magazine called The People’s Friend in 1906, and this gave me her married name, but also informed me that she was working as a head teacher in a village quite a way from Edinburgh. It was definitely her – it named her father and his achievements.

Oh, my goodness. I wrote a number of stories for that magazine myself, some decades ago, so that made me sit up and look, straight away!

More interestingly, though – for a married woman still to be working, was a red flag in itself, because it was usual for a woman to stop working when she married. I traced her marriage certificate on Scotland’s People, and only noticed at the last minute that there was an amendment attached. She divorced her husband – whereabouts unknown – in 1912. Perhaps she had found it expedient to continue working, notwithstanding having a young child, if there had already been marital discord for a while. But who knows?!

I found the mother, a nine-year old son and a servant living back in Edinburgh in 1911. The census described her just as a teacher – no mention of headship here.

Really, my only interest at this point – whether or not she continued to collaborate with her father after she married – was my curiosity about a woman working as a teacher after marriage. Not long ago, I researched a late Victorian woman called Clarinda Webster, who was a music teacher, head teacher and ultimately a divorcee, so there was a human interest in finding someone else whose circumstances might have been vaguely similar …

After a few hours delving into Ancestry, Scotland’s People and the British Newspaper Archive, I made myself stop. I don’t know where this woman and her son ended up. Maybe they left Scotland or emigrated, who knows? At the end of the day, it doesn’t make any difference to my research into pedagogical music publications in the late Victorian and Edwardian eras.

On the other hand, stories of working women professionals in that era continue to interest me, whether musicians, teachers or both. It wouldn’t take much to convince me to keep looking…

I Trashed it! Letting Things go…

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay

For a couple of years, I’ve had a few posts saved as drafts – but I’d never posted them. They contained writing that I had had second thoughts about,  thinking they might ultimately get incorporated into the book I’ve been writing.  Often containing a fair amount of detail, I didn’t want them out in the big wide world all alone, outside the context of the bigger picture.

Occasionally, I’ve deleted such a draft, deciding I had no further use for it. This morning, two more were intentionally trashed, but then … oops! my finger slipped,  and I deleted a substantial draft about James S. Kerr! This wasn’t intentional. However, the book has now been submitted to the publisher; in fairness, I think Kerr has been given generous coverage there. I don’t feel bad about accidentally deleting this extra bit of writing. It appeared as though I wrote it quite a while before I wrote the chapters focusing on different aspects of Kerr and Mozart Allan’s output, and what will appear in the book represents deeper thought about Kerr’s place in Scottish music publishing history.

I also intentionally deleted a short piece about three musical boys from Greenock. If I return to that idea, it’ll be there in my head in any case, because one of them was the grandfather-in-law I never met!

Sometimes it’s not a bad thing to let things go.  Blogs are great places for less formal, experimental or just preparatory writing. But by the same token, not every post needs to be there forever!

(Image: one of the Berkeley Street premises later connected with Kerr’s.)

Crafting the Perfect Tone: Unveiling the Depths of AI Writing

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay

In the continuing saga of my explorations into writing with AI, you’ll remember that yesterday found me getting one of my own blog posts ‘translated’ by the Jetpack bot. It didn’t have the same voice as me in the slightest. My blog posts generally consist of commentary on something I’ve been researching; discussion of my methodology; or just an update on something exciting in connection with either my role as a researcher or as a hybrid librarian/researcher. Sometimes I’ll muse upon how I feel about my own unique hybrid role.

Yesterday, the obliging Jetpack bot saw that I was excited about reaching some new milestones. I was excited in a quiet, thoughtful, academic kind of way. Jetpack-Bot, on the other hand, was breathlessly enthusiastic, inviting my readers to follow me as I celebrated these amazing achievements and exploits.

I dutifully shared Jetpack-Bot’s translation after my own blog post, so that readers could compare our written styles. At that point, I noticed a button which invited me to alter the tone of the translation. That’s what I propose to do today, with this posting.

What you have just read was all my own writing, but I adopted Jetpack-Bot’s title. Now we’ll give the bot free rein for the rest of the posting!

Here is what Jetpack-Bot created first:-

Exploring the Depths: Crafting the Perfect Tone with AI Writing

Embarking further into my AI writing experimentations, you may recall my previous encounter where I subjected one of my blog posts to the translation capabilities of the Jetpack bot. To my dismay, the resulting content lacked even a trace of my authentic voice. Typically, my blog revolves around my insightful commentary on research, methodological discussions, or enthralling updates relating to my roles as both researcher and hybrid librarian. On occasion, I also muse upon the unique nature of my hybrid profession.

During my recent venture, the ever-helpful Jetpack bot detected my excitement as I reached significant milestones. However, while my excitement resonated in a quiet, contemplative, and academic manner, Jetpack-Bot exuded an uncontrollably enthusiastic tone, urging my readers to join in on the celebration of these extraordinary achievements and ventures.

Out of duty, I shared Jetpack-Bot’s translated version alongside my original blog post, providing readers with an opportunity to compare our writing styles. It was at that moment I noticed a button beckoning me to adjust the tone of the translation. And so, today, in this new entry, I propose to seize that opportunity and sculpt the perfect tone for my content.

There’s a Choice of ‘Tone’. I opted for ‘serious’:-

(The bot seems to think that long words make for a more serious tone – what do you think?!)

Crafting the Perfect Tone: Unveiling the Depths of AI Writing

Delving deeper into my explorations of AI-assisted writing, it is worth recalling the recent incident in which I submitted one of my blog posts for translation by the Jetpack bot. Regrettably, the resulting content bore no semblance to my distinct voice. As a rule, my blog entries consist of scholarly commentary on my research endeavors, methodological discussions, or intriguing updates pertaining to my multifaceted identity as a researcher and hybrid librarian. Occasionally, I reflect upon the profound implications of my unique professional role.

Upon analyzing the Jetpack bot’s response, I discovered its unwavering enthusiasm in response to my excitement surrounding recent milestones. However, rather than mirroring my restrained and thoughtful academic enthusiasm, Jetpack-Bot appeared overtly exuberant, urging my readers to accompany me on the exhilarating journey through remarkable achievements and exploits.

Out of a sense of duty, I shared the Jetpack-Bot’s translated rendition alongside my original blog post, allowing readers to discern the stark contrast in our respective writing styles. Interestingly, I observed a button inviting me to modify the translation’s tone. Consequently, I now intend to seize this opportunity, in the present discourse, to calibrate the tone and essence of my written content with utmost precision.

Well, I think that’s enough for now, to be truthful. I wrote this in my lunchbreak, and it’s time to get back to work. I’ll hit ‘Publish’ and see what my readers make of it all.

Unveiling Milestones: Moments of Progress and Excitement

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay

Do you keep lists, partly at least for the joy of ticking things off them? I certainly do.

In terms of milestones, today I can track significant progress: not only have I decided on the titles of my two forthcoming seminars at the University of St Andrews, but something even more momentous has occurred. My Fellowship ID card is ready before I’ve even got there. It’s all very exciting!

Moreover, the chapter I promised for someone else’s essay collection is pretty much drafted. That unidentifiable editor? Well, I sought help from a genealogical expert, and was pointed towards an individual I hadn’t really considered, in a street I already knew about. It’s a distinct likelihood rather than a certainty, but I’m happy to leave it there. So that went into the contributed chapter, and it feels a bit more ‘anchored’ as a result.

So, I now have a little time to mull it over and make sure I’m happy with it. I do enjoy writing!

(I thought I could just ask the AI bot to suggest a title, but it kindly offered to rewrite my post too. Just for the purposes of comparison, read on to see how it suggested changing the text I actually authored! Clearly, I need to be more flamboyant in my style. The bot did offer me the opportunity to change the tone. I’ll try that another time … )

NB I wrote the above. The bot suggested the title … and what follows!

Milestones: Seminars, Serendipity, and Writing Delight

Join me in celebrating the remarkable milestones I have achieved on my journey. Today, I reflect on the significant progress made as I announce the titles for my upcoming seminars at the esteemed University of St Andrews. But the excitement doesn’t end there – an even more momentous occasion awaits. My Fellowship ID card has arrived ahead of schedule, adding to the thrill of anticipation!

In addition to these accomplishments, I share the progress made on a chapter I pledged to contribute to an essay collection. Through the guidance of a genealogical expert, I uncovered an unexpected lead – an individual I hadn’t previously considered, residing on a street I was already familiar with. Though not yet confirmed, this newfound possibility has contributed depth and a sense of grounding to the chapter.

Now, with time to reflect and refine, I take pleasure in the art of writing, ensuring utmost satisfaction with my work. Join me on this exhilarating journey of milestones, serendipitous discoveries, and the joy that writing brings.

When Things Come in Threes

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay
Notebook cover reads, 'I am really busy'. Pen lying on the notebook.

I submitted the book on time at the end of July. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the only thing I was supposed to complete by the end of the month. There was also my social media input before the Congress, which had a very fixed deadline indeed.

And that meant I absolutely could not complete the third thing on time. However, today I submitted the peer-review that I should also have submitted at the end of July. HOORAY!!

Necessary morning caffeine!

Anyway, when I’m not tied up being a librarian, I can now concentrate on a chapter I’ve promised to write, and two new lectures in my capacity as Ketelbey Fellow. After the hard slog with the book and the anxiety that the peer-review caused me (It was not only challenging, but I hate missing deadlines) – having these three things to do feels positively invigorating.

At last, I’ve seen it! In Waltz Time …

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay

One of my favourite Mozart Allan songbooks has an intriguing history. I have contributed a chapter discussing it, in a print and tourism collection, and I’ve dealt with it in slightly less depth in my own monograph. (Neither is published yet, but hopefully the essay collection will appear later this year.)

The songbook has a photo of a Glasgow entertainer, and the words (so I thought) of his recent song – but not the music. That, it says, is available from Mozart Allan. I have been itching to see this entertainer’s song, but it entailed a trip to the National Library of Scotland.

Today – at last! – I saw it. Two sides of music, that’s all. The words in the song-sheet are more extensive than what appeared in the songbook. It’s just a typical music-hall waltz, but I’ll tell you something …

They encapsulate much of what I’ve been writing about, so I’m ecstatic to have seen it. I’m not able to share the images (though I think this snippet is probably ok!) – but I’ll certainly be talking about it when I give one of my guest lectures at St Andrews!

Again and again, I sit down to write about music, and end up going into hyperfocus about words. It must just be the way my mind works!